The sound of Oliver's SUV fading into the distance sent ice through my veins. I scrambled to my feet, my hand still protectively cradling my stomach.

"He can't use that invitation," I whispered, panic clawing up my throat. "The bio-scan will trigger an alert. They'll arrest him—or worse, they'll trace it back to me."

I had to stop him. Not just for him, but for our pup. For the secret I'd kept for so long.

The reinforced door wouldn't budge. Oliver had locked me in—trapped me like an animal. My fingers trembled as I searched for my phone, remembering too late that he'd taken it.

"There has to be another way," I muttered, spinning around our cabin.

My eyes landed on the heavy glass of the back window. It was reinforced, like everything else in our home—designed to keep threats out. Now it was keeping me in.

I grabbed a kitchen towel and wrapped it around my arm. The glass would cut me, but I couldn't shift to heal—not yet. My wolf was still dormant, suppressed too long.

"I'm sorry, baby," I whispered to my unborn pup. "Mommy has to do this."

With a deep breath, I slammed my wrapped arm against the glass. The impact sent shockwaves through me, but the window held.

"Again," I gritted my teeth.

The second strike cracked the glass. The third shattered it completely.

Blood soaked through the towel as I cleared the remaining shards. Pain lanced up my arm, but I couldn't stop. I squeezed through the narrow opening, glass biting into my skin.

Freedom tasted like copper and desperation.

I ran toward the nearest payphone, my arm leaving a trail of blood droplets behind me. The old-fashioned phone booth smelled of rust and stale air.

With shaking fingers, I dialed Talia's number—one of the few I knew by heart.

"Hello?" Her voice was groggy with sleep.

"Talia," I choked out, tears finally breaking free. "It's Lyla. I need help."

Instant alertness sharpened her tone. "What's wrong? Where are you?"

"Oliver took the invitation," I gasped, watching my blood drip onto the metal floor. "He's taking Kori to the Gala. I need to stop him before he scans it."

Silence stretched between us. Then: "Stay where you are. Don't move."

"I can't—"

"Five minutes, Lyla. Just stay there."

The line went dead.

Three minutes later, a sleek black SUV screeched to a halt beside the phone booth. The windows were tinted, the tires bulletproof. It looked nothing like Talia's usual modest sedan.

Talia leapt out, her eyes widening at the sight of my bloodied arm. "Moon Goddess, what happened?"

I collapsed into her arms. "He locked me in. I had to break out."

"Come on," she said, helping me into the backseat. "We need to clean that up."

Inside, the SUV was more fortress than vehicle—leather seats, advanced console, and a small first aid kit that Talia immediately opened.

"What's going on?" I asked as she gently unwrapped the towel from my arm.

"This," she said, motioning to the vehicle, "is my real life. I'm not just a pack member, Lyla. I'm Talia Blackwood, daughter of the Alpha of Diamond Lake Pack."

My jaw dropped. "You're an Alpha's daughter?"

She nodded grimly, pressing antiseptic to my cuts. "I wanted real friends. People who liked me for me, not my status."

"But why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I didn't want to be that person." Her eyes met mine. "Just like you didn't want to be 'that person.'"

I stared at her, pieces clicking into place. "You knew. About me."

"Not everything," she admitted. "But I suspected you were hiding something big."

The SUV lurched forward, accelerating far beyond legal limits. I gripped the door handle as we tore through the streets.

"We're going to be late," I said, checking my watch.

"We?" Talia raised an eyebrow. "No, Lyla. You're not going anywhere near that border."

"I have to! Oliver will use the invitation—"

"And get himself arrested," she finished. "Let him."

I shook my head frantically. "You don't understand. The bio-scan will trigger an alert. They'll know someone stole it. They'll trace it back to me."

"Let them," Talia said, her voice hardening.

"No!" I grabbed her arm. "There's more. I—" The words caught in my throat.

Talia waited, her eyes patient but demanding.

"I'm pregnant," I whispered.

Her expression softened instantly. "Oh, Lyla." She pulled me into a gentle hug. "How far along?"

"About eight weeks," I admitted. "I was going to tell him today."

Talia's face darkened with fury. "That bastard. He has no idea what he's done."

"He can't know," I pleaded. "Not yet. Not like this."

Talia nodded slowly, her eyes calculating. "Then we'll stop him before he scans that invitation."

She reached under her seat and pulled out a small case. When she flipped it open, I gasped—inside lay two silver handguns and several clips of ammunition.

"Talia," I breathed. "What are you doing with those?"

Her smile was grim. "Like I said, I'm not just a pack member." She checked one of the guns with practiced ease. "And neither are you."

The Royal Territory loomed ahead, its massive gates gleaming in the afternoon sun. Even from a distance, I could see the long queue of luxury vehicles waiting to enter. My heart hammered against my ribs as Talia's SUV approached the checkpoint.

"We're too late," I whispered, spotting Oliver's black SUV in the VIP lane. "He's already here."

Talia's grip tightened on the steering wheel. "We'll stop him."

She parked hastily at the edge of the lot, and we both jumped out. Pain shot through my injured arm as I stumbled forward, but I pushed through it. Our pup's life depended on stopping Oliver.

"Wait," Talia said, grabbing my uninjured arm. "We need to be smart about this."

But I was already moving, my eyes fixed on Oliver's vehicle. The VIP lane moved faster than the regular one—they'd be scanned soon.

I broke into a run, weaving between parked cars. The wind whipped my hair across my face as I dodged a startled attendant.

"Lyla!" Talia called behind me. "Slow down!"

I couldn't slow down. Not when every second brought Oliver closer to scanning that invitation—my invitation.

I was twenty feet from the VIP checkpoint when a wall of muscle blocked my path.

"Where do you think you're going, Omega?" Marcus Thompson's voice was cold as he stepped in front of me, flanked by two Silverfang warriors.

My skidded to a halt. "Marcus, please—I need to see Oliver."

"Alpha Oliver gave specific orders." Marcus's eyes were hard. "No interruptions. Especially not from you."

"He's making a mistake," I pleaded, trying to sidestep him. "The invitation—"

Strong hands gripped my shoulders, shoving me backward. I stumbled, nearly falling.

"Stay away from the Alpha," one warrior growled.

"Or what?" I challenged, fury rising. "You'll hurt me? Go ahead—show everyone how the Silverfang Pack treats its Luna."

Marcus laughed, the sound ugly. "Luna? You're nothing but a wolfless nobody. A charity case Oliver took pity on."

His words stung worse than the hands now gripping my arms. I struggled against their hold, but they only tightened their grip.

"Let me go!" I shouted, drawing stares from nearby vehicles.

"Look at her," Marcus sneered to the others. "Desperate as always."

Something in me snapped. Years of palace training surged back—muscle memory I'd buried deep.

I dropped my weight, twisting sharply. My injured arm screamed in protest as I slammed my elbow into one warrior's solar plexus. He doubled over, gasping.

The second warrior lunged for me, but I pivoted, using his momentum to throw him into Marcus. Both men crashed to the pavement.

Marcus's eyes widened in shock. "How did you—"

I was already running past them, my heart pounding with adrenaline and fear.

"Stop her!" Marcus shouted.

I sprinted toward the VIP checkpoint, ignoring the burning pain in my arm. "Oliver!" I screamed. "OLIVER!"

Heads turned. Conversations halted. I caught glimpses of expensive gowns and tailored suits as dignitaries and pack leaders stared at the commotion I was creating.

"Oliver!" I called again, pushing through the crowd.

A car door slammed open. Oliver emerged from the VIP lane, his face thunderous with rage.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he snarled, stalking toward me.

Behind him, Kori stepped out of the SUV, resplendent in a silver gown that sparkled like moonlight. My breath caught—the dress was designed for a Luna, not a mistress.

"Lyla," she sighed dramatically, her voice carrying to the growing crowd. "Why can't you just accept it? Oliver doesn't love you anymore."

She held up the invitation, its embossed lettering catching the light. "We're going to the Gala. Together. As we should be."

Whispers rippled through the onlookers. I saw pity in some eyes, disgust in others.

"That's not—" I started, but Kori cut me off.

"Please," she said, her voice trembling perfectly. "Just let us have this moment. Stop trying to ruin everything."

Oliver reached her side, his arm sliding possessively around her waist. "Everyone sees what's happening here, right? My ex can't accept that I've moved on."

"I'm not your ex," I gasped, reaching them at last. I ignored Kori, focusing entirely on Oliver. "Please," I whispered, keeping my voice low. "Give me the invitation. It's coded to me. If you try to scan it, the Royal Guard will think you killed the owner."

Oliver's laugh was cruel. "More delusions? You really are pathetic."

He held up the invitation for everyone to see. "This? This is what she's talking about. Some fake invitation she bought on the black market to trick me."

The crowd murmured, some stepping back from me as if my desperation might be contagious.

"I'm telling the truth," I pleaded, my voice breaking. "Oliver, please—"

"Enough!" His voice rose, drawing even more attention. "Everyone needs to hear this. Lyla Harrison is a liar and a fraud. She's been stalking me since I ended things with her."

Kori nodded solemnly beside him, her eyes gleaming with triumph.

And in that moment, as the crowd's judgment fell upon me like stones, I realized just how thoroughly they had planned my humiliation.